


Prunus Serotina

by himitsutsubasa



Category: Hannibal (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe, Alternate Universe - Soulmates, Cannibalistic Thoughts, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-01-01
Updated: 2015-01-01
Packaged: 2018-03-04 16:07:03
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,429
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3073946
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/himitsutsubasa/pseuds/himitsutsubasa
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Hannibal finds that his soul mate is very rude, but that is alright, because the puppy was not trying to be.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Prunus Serotina

**Author's Note:**

  * For [WendigoDreaming](https://archiveofourown.org/users/WendigoDreaming/gifts).



> I make a few mentions of Beverly's past and took a different route in how all the characters met.

 He’s not sure who brought in the bedraggled, drowned cat of a man he sees in his house, but he is willing to bet that that person knows him very well and hopes that the fact the visitor is in the most horrendous shade of plaid Hannibal has ever seen will not offend him.

The plaid has offended him. A little.

The man is sort of handsome, nice nose and tender lips. His hair… is a mess. Hannibal wants to curl his lip at it for the messy, not carefully style messy but plain messy, that someone thought would escape his notice and his temper. The man isn’t very tall, but has a sort of clean and smooth air that would have made him seem taller, if he hadn’t been curled into himself.

Not visibly curling into himself, but the man is…. Folded, like an origami crane. His edges are tucked away and his existence is sustained by the fact he is very carefully held together by fragile friction and the structural integrity of his clothes.

The old tattered suit and strange shirt make the man stand out and disappear at the same time. He doesn’t talk. He doesn’t converse. He hides, taking food from waiters and sipping his drink like he is terrified that doing anything else means that he will… god forbid, socialize.

“He’s messed up.”

Hannibal knows that voice, the sharp silvery scratch of it blended with subtle curls of slate gray and mauve. It’s rich and cultured, save for the sprinkle of woodland green that levels it to something unusual, much like the woman speaking.

“I didn’t know you had a degree in psychology, Dr. Katz.”

Beverly shakes her head, dark curls tumbling over the sleek, translucent fabric on her shoulder. “I leave that area of expertise to you, Dr. Lecter.”

“What makes you say so?”

Beverly glances over at the man over her glass. “Classified.”

Ah, so a colleague. She does not speak often of the people around her – Too well bred to do so, he thinks proudly, remembering his hand in her adaptation to higher society – but in their line of work, it is better to acknowledge the possibilities before they happen.

“He would not happen to be Will Graham.”

Beverly’s eyes narrow and her lip curls into a smile. Mischievous still, he thinks. Even after all these years. She is still that girl he met during a guest lecture. She is still the girl who walked up to him and asked him if he wanted to help her get into the FBI.

“Yes. He would happen to be. I’m guessing Jack asked you to come in?”

The short phone call had enlightened him to the fact that this Will Graham was perhaps Jack’s favorite agent and this man had lost a great deal. What the man had lost, he had no idea.

“He mentioned a case.”

Beverly huffs, quietly. Much better than when they first met and she had tough-loved everyone she knew, loudly. “Will lost his wife.”

“Ah.” That filled in many of the gaps. “Jack wants him out and socializing? The loss of a soulmate is not easily overcome.”

Beverly’s lips twitch and her fingers clench around her glass. “She wasn’t his soulmate.”

“Oh?”

Beverly nods, exhaling slowly. “They were stable common’s and… I like to think that they knew, but loved each other anyway.”

Hannibal gently wraps his fingers around her wrist and presses a kiss to the words scrawled there in blue.

‘1 Corinthians 13:4-7’ A rather ironic message, given her mate’s attitude and personality.

“Rafael was unworthy of you.” And very rude and very delicious. Though, she did not need to know that last part.

Beverly’s eyes light for a moment, before shuttering. She blinks seductively like he taught her and a small twist of a smile graces her painted lips.

“Thank you.”

He lets her drift off. She is still kicking and still his favorite out of the agents. This one, though her insistent pursuit of the truth may get her killed one day, is precious. This one, he thinks absently, is like Mischa, too good for the things that will happened to her.

He makes his way through the crowd, adjusting his tie and smoothing his suit. Best to make a good first impression, if he may be working with this man or evaluating him.

Will is still hovering in the corner, nibbling on hors d’oeuvres and daintily sipping on his water.

The waiters know to stop by him now, Hannibal notes. They circle back every few minutes and offer him more, but Hannibal is sure that Will is still nibbling on the same piece Hannibal saw him with earlier.

Will Graham stills, like a deer sighting a hunter and Hannibal settles nearby, a placid smile pasted on his face.

“Hello.”

The man shivers and if Hannibal did not know better, he would say that the man is afraid of him, possibly utterly terrified.

He knows better and that is the shiver of the right phrase being said. That is the shiver of “maybe”, coupled with the bitter, caustic burn of “probably not”. How sweet, though, that after all this time, this man is still hopeful.

Will offers him a weak smile and Hannibal can see why Jack is interested in calling in Hannibal. The man is hanging by a silken thread and slipping, if his even more huddled body position says anything.   

Will holds up the food in his hand and shrugs. “Tasteless…”

Red. He will deny it later, but for a moment, everything around Will is thrown into stark relief next to the red crowding in his vision.

The shiver that traces down his spine, the bitter shiver, is real and cold and he starts fading back into normal color as he inhales, fingers pressed to his left wrist, caressing that word.

“Is that so?” Hannibal asks. This is his soulmate and… he… he is so rude. Hannibal wants to crush him to dust. He wants to eat this man. He wants to make sure there is nothing left for Jack to find.

Will shrugs and he’s huddled even tighter now, if that is even possible. “I have fewer taste buds than most people. I can’t really taste anything delicate.”

Hannibal breathes, a little softer. “I suppose a life of canned soup and television meals does not help?”

Will blinks and suddenly all the huddle fades. He stands closer, almost basking in Hannibal’s space, and asks, “How?”

Hannibal would like to say that he is Sherlock Holmes and that he divined Will’s history from his tics and his motions, but he gives credit where it is due; Jack told him a little about Will’s traumatic childhood.

“Hannibal Lecter.”

Will’s eyes go wide and Hannibal has to place a hand on the man to stop him from backing into a potted plant.

“I’m so sorry.”

“No, it is fine.” Hannibal finds that he is telling the truth. “Jack told me.”

Will nods and a small smile flits over his face. “Dr. Lecter, Jack will ask, but don’t try to psychoanalyze me.”

“Why is that?” Hannibal crowds his space and Will does not curl or back up this time. He stands and Hannibal wants to bury his face in the man’s neck and inhale the sweet, sharp scent of defiance muddled with insanity.

“You won’t like me when I’m psychoanalyzed.”

Hannibal shakes his head instead, and cups his hand around Will’s cheek.

The man tenses, before his head tilts ever so slightly to see his words on Hannibal’s wrist.

“Oh my god.”

Hannibal leans in closer, taking the glass out of Will’s hand. The crowd doesn’t care. They are here for the food and the glamour, not him.

“How do you feel about taste training?”

Will blinks, confused. “Uh…”

Hannibal drops his hand to bracket the man against a wall and uses the other to catch the hand that held the glass. “I’m free most evenings and I would love to teach you the subtleties of cuisine.”

“And other things?”

Hannibal’s lips quirk into a smile. “If you are willing.”

Will exhales and a soft puff of warm air brushes against Hannibal’s neck. “You can’t psychoanalyze someone you’re sleeping with.”

Hannibal practically purrs in delight. A smart partner knows when he’s facing the lesser of two evils and Will, Will is perfect that way. “Personal relationships are a conflict of interest. The FBI knows that.”

Will’s smile is almost sinful. “How’s Friday at six?”

Hannibal ghosts his lips over Will’s wrist.  

“It’s a date.”

**Author's Note:**

> So yes, by rude I mean that Rafael was not worthy of Katz at all and the first thing he did when they met was quote the most ironic Bible passage at her, given how their relationship ended.
>
>>   
> "Love is patient, love is kind. It does not envy, it does not boast, it is not proud. It does not dishonor others, it is not self-seeking, it is not easily angered, it keeps no record of wrongs. Love does not delight in evil but rejoices with the truth. It always protects, always trusts, always hopes, always perseveres."
> 
>   
> Imagine a cheating, lying scumbag with self-righteous views. Yep. That's him.  
> I did make Molly a character so everyone here is a little older.  
> Hannibal met Katz back when she was in med school and he wanted a place among the people hunting him. She has a vague idea that he's not totally clean-cut, but he is kind to her so she tries not to suspect him.  
> Title is "Black Cherry".


End file.
